


Heartstrings

by TrustDivineChaos



Category: Penny Dreadful: City of Angels (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrustDivineChaos/pseuds/TrustDivineChaos
Summary: When Rico wakes up to find Mateo missing, he assumes the worst, and realizes just how much he's willing to do for this boy he's taken under his wing.Canon divergence post episode 6, including an alternate ending for Diego.
Relationships: Fly Rico/Mateo Vega, FlyVega
Comments: 23
Kudos: 73





	1. Finding Mateo

Despite their less than ideal surroundings, Rico slept surprisingly well. In fact, he worried he’d slept too well when he woke up to find himself alone in their little, hideaway shack. 

Peeking out the door, it still appeared to be early in the morning, but there were no signs of Rio or Mateo outside. He looked around the room, trying to find a note or any other clue as to where they might have gone. He found nothing. 

It was most likely that they'd just gone out together to run an errand or get some air, but they'd agreed not to do that. If anyone left, they were to go alone. And Mateo was definitely not allowed to go anywhere. Worry creased Rico’s brow more than any insecurities about being left out of something they might be doing together. Perhaps there was news about Diego or their position had been compromised. Either way, given their circumstances, he found it hard to believe they’d have left him without saying anything. Whatever the reason for their absence, it didn’t sit well with Rico. He had half a mind to go looking for them, but feared that would be both fruitless and may backfire if he wasn’t there when they came back. 

He took a seat, lit a cigarette, and tried to calm his mind. Had he been anywhere else, had there been anyone else around, he probably could have distracted himself, but he didn’t have those luxuries here. Even the radio was broken thanks to Mateo’s outburst the night before. It wasn’t long until he was on his feet again and pacing around the room. 

One of many ideas that crossed his mind was that Mateo had slipped out on his own, back to his mama or worse, off to the police. But surely Rio would have woken him had she found Mateo missing. No. The only logical explanation was that they’d gone out together. The question simply remained: why?

Fortunately for Rico, who was getting closer and closer to storming out into the city the longer they were gone, after little more than an hour of being awake, a familiar knock came at the door before it opened in front of him.

Any relief that might have shown on his face quickly disappeared when he realized that Rio was alone.

“Where’s Mateo?” he asked, jumping straight to the most important question.

“He’s not still here with you?”

Rico’s jaw tightened as he met Rio’s gaze. She seemed unconcerned, but wasn’t joking either. He gestured to the empty space around them.

“He was here when I left,” she explained, “Snuggled up right next to you over there.” She pointed to the bed the three of them had been sharing since fleeing the cops. It was too small for them to sleep comfortably together, and so, they’d taken turns, him and Rio, resting in one of the chairs instead. But she was right, when they’d switched places late last night, he’d climbed in with Mateo and should have found him there again when he got up. Rico wondered how Mateo could have climbed out without waking him; surely he couldn’t have been sleeping that deeply what with how alert they all were. And yet, here they were without Mateo.

“Do you think he went home?” Rico asked, deciding to forget about _how_ Mateo slipped away and focus on the _why_ instead. 

“I doubt it,” she replied, beginning to pace the room, the first signs of worry creasing her pretty face. “You saw how he turned away his own mother last night.”

Rico _had_ seen it, but he'd seen the tears that had slipped down Mateo’s cheeks as well. 

“He wouldn’t have gone to turn himself in, would he?” Rio continued. “I know he’s got a bleeding heart for Diego, but I thought we’d got that idea out of his head.”

“But then ole Mama Vega showed up talking about God knowing what he did.” Rico shook his head. “He’s going to the cops or at least to his brother.” As much as he hated the idea, he was more certain than he’d been all morning. 

Rio threw herself into a seat at the table, letting out a deep sigh and a string of Spanish curses. “He’s fucking dead. They both are. He’ll probably take all the blame, but they’ll keep Diego either way. Why trade one spic for another when you can string up two?”

Rico turned his back on Rio, running his hands over his head. 

“We’ll wait here for another couple days,” Rio continued, “Then we can put Riley behind us and get back to business. Fucking Gringo causing us trouble even after he’s dead.”

“We’re not going to do anything?” Rico asked, turning back to face her. 

“Do what, cariño? He’s already gone. We can’t stop him now.”

“If we find him in time…”

Rio’s laughter, if not cruel, was definitely selfish. “Look, I like the kid too, but I’m not risking my neck for him and neither should you. He’s made his choice. Maybe he’ll smarten up and turn back before it’s too late, but it’s out of our hands.” She rose now and closed the space between them, running a hand up Rico’s arm. “He’s not worth it, Rico,” she added and began to caress the back of his neck.

Rico pulled away, swearing a _puta madre_ in frustration. He stormed out the door, letting it slam behind him. He was getting nowhere talking to her and if he was going to go after Mateo, he had to go now. 

He stood outside for a moment, still unsure if he was making the right decision, unsure if he’d even be able to find the pendejo who’d gone and run off. Yet, risky as it might be, the loudest voice in his head told him he had to try. 

On his way to their car, the beginnings of a plan began to form in his mind. He’d check out the Vegas’ place first, hoping that Mateo just went home, and then head into the city if he didn’t find him there. Though not a religious man, Rico prayed that Mateo had only gone running back to mama and that all this worrying would be for nothing. 

But it wasn’t for nothing. He pulled up near the Vega house a few minutes later and could tell easily enough that Mateo wasn’t there. His mother and family, yes, but not the Vega he was looking for. Letting out another curse under his breath, Rico was just about to run back to the car when his eyes caught sight of something that would make this detour not entirely wasteful.

Trying to avoid notice from the neighbours going about their morning chores, Rico swiped a pair of pants and jacket from a clothesline in a yard nearby. Despite having Diego, and now maybe Mateo too, Rico didn’t doubt that the cops would still be looking for him as well. There were consequences to having such notoriety in the city, even before they’d taken care of Riley.

The drive into the city wasn’t long, but Rico’s anxiety was increasing with every mile. As calm, cool, and collected as he might be, he wasn’t a fan of taking unnecessary risks. Stopping Mateo from doing something stupid felt necessary, but returning to the police station so soon after dropping a dead cop on their doorstep was the very definition of risk.

He parked the car a couple blocks away from the station, deciding to continue his search on foot. Mateo would have walked into the city, or maybe been lucky enough to catch a bus. He’d had at least an hour’s head start, but Rico was cautiously optimistic that he may have caught up to him in time.

He kept his head down and tried not to draw attention to himself. Though they were a bit big on him, the workman’s clothes he’d borrowed helped him blend in. In broad daylight in this part of town, he would have had everyone staring had he still been wearing his usual threads.

Nearing the station, feeling his heart beating faster in his chest, he carefully scanned the main street and those connecting to it. He stayed on the opposite side of the street from the station as he walked past it. He kept walking for a block in the other direction and still saw no sign of Mateo. He turned and walked back almost as far as the car and still nothing. He worried he was too late. But a small part of him thought maybe he’d been wrong all along. Maybe Mateo hadn’t come this way at all. Maybe he’d gone to his brother’s apartment or something. Rico had no idea where that was, but he hoped Mateo might have gone there instead.

He knew he couldn’t keep pacing near the station without someone noticing him, but decided to give it one more shot just in case.

As he neared the station again, he slowed to a stop at a bus stop across the street. He took a seat casually, despite being on high alert. Breathing deeply, he slowly eyed the station and surrounding area from this new vantage point.

He was just about to give up, maybe go by his apartment or the Cat, when he spotted his wayward, baby Pachuco. 

Mateo was hiding in the alley beside the station. Closer than he ever should have been, but still as yet unseen by the police.

Rico wasn’t going to squander this lucky break, and so, wasted no time crossing the road to confront Mateo. He didn’t run, still trying to play it cool, but he walked with a purpose and a look that could kill. 

Mateo didn’t seem to recognize Rico at first, as he strode across the street. His plain clothes had tricked even him. But after doing a double take, recognition dawned on the young man’s face. He barely had time to say Rico’s name though before he was being slammed up against the wall. Rico put his hand over Mateo’s mouth. 

“Keep your mouth shut and come with me.” Rico hissed quietly. He then grabbed Mateo by the collar and dragged him further into the alley and around the corner. They were still far too close to the station for his liking, but he was pretty sure the cops would have little reason to come back here. He had to get Mateo on board before going back out to the street. He couldn’t exactly drag him to the car without making a scene. He needed Mateo to come quietly.

“What are you thinking, ese?!” Rico demanded, still keeping his voice low. He’d released Mateo, but kept little distance between them, all but forcing Mateo to keep his back against the wall.

“I can’t let Diego take the fall for me.”

“He already has!”

“It’s not right, Rico!”

“Neither is you throwing your life away by walking in there like some fucking martyr. Your brother gave you a chance to run away. Your mother offered you forgiveness. But you would spit in both their faces for a kid you just met?” Mateo had family, family who loved him. Rico didn’t understand how he could give that up so easily. Hell, even giving that up to be a Pachuco didn’t make a lot of sense. But he heard Rio’s voice in his head as he questioned Mateo’s concern for Diego. Was he not being just as foolish now for a boy he barely knew? 

“I can’t sleep, Rico.”

Rico sighed, feeling some of his anger dissipate. He knew Mateo had been having nightmares ever since they’d killed Riley. Now he had two lives weighing on his conscience. “Your guilt will pass, Mateo. Or it won’t. But either way, there's nothing you can do for Diego.” He clasped Mateo’s shoulder, trying to comfort him, seeing the tears in his eyes. That look of fear and helplessness he had didn’t last long though. Instead it was suddenly replaced by an intensity he’d seen in Mateo only twice before: when he’d convinced him to go after Riley and last night when he’d talked about Diego. Stupid and stubborn as he might be, Mateo was fiercely loyal to those he cared about. Rico could love him for that if he wasn’t so frustrated by the danger it put them in.

Mateo shoved Rico away from him, but then closed the distance between them once more. “I’m not leaving him here, Rico. So if you don’t want me to turn myself in, then you need to help me get him out of there. We have to help him escape.”

Rico grit his teeth. This wasn’t what he’d wanted. He should have just let Mateo turn himself in and moved on. He should never have come looking for him. Because now, here he was, face to face with this inexplicably determined boy who he kept struggling to say no to. He didn’t like, nor understand, this sway Mateo seemed to have over him, but it worked. He couldn’t walk away from him now. “You’re gonna do exactly what I say,” Rico said, taking hold of Mateo’s collar again. “If Diego's still here, we’ll try to get him out, but if he’s already gone, we’re done. Comprende?” There was no time to come up with a proper plan, but Rico would think of something. He only hoped it wouldn’t end up getting both of them killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on this alternate path from the one they've taken on the show.
> 
> As always, comments are welcome and appreciated.


	2. Saving Diego

Walking through the alley, towards the station, Rico followed it around until they were nearing the back of the building.

Rico had been locked up in the cells in that building more than once. He knew that there was a single window looking into the hallway of the lockup and that that window faced out into the back alley, letting in meagre light even on a bright summer’s day.

As they neared the corner of the building, Rico crouched down, hoping Mateo would follow his lead. He then crept closer to the nearby window. It was possible that Diego was still in one of the interrogation rooms or that he’d already been moved to another facility. Considering how long it’d been since Diego was caught, Rico was hoping that the latter hadn’t happened yet and that the former interrogation, or beating, had already concluded. That would leave only one other option for where they’d find their captured Pachuco. 

Steeling himself with a deep breath, Rico carefully peeked in the window.

As he remembered, the window was at the end of the hall with cells lining either side. From this angle he could only see half the cells; he’d have to cross to the other side of the window to see the opposing cages. He could see at least two of the cells were occupied, and with familiar faces, at that, but Diego wasn’t amongst them. 

“D’you see him?” Mateo whispered as he pulled back from the window again. 

Rico shook his head and mouthed for Mateo to stay put. He hadn’t seen any cops in the hall, but they could show up any second. 

He slipped past the window and hugged the wall on the opposite side, raising a hand to again instruct Mateo to stay put. 

The two of them peeked in now and just as Rico’s eyes landed on a defeated Diego sitting in the corner of a cell, he heard a door open, laughter, and a loud voice call out. Rico immediately threw himself back against the wall, out of sight of the window, and was relieved to see Mateo had the sense to do the same. 

Though they couldn’t see what was happening anymore, Rico could make out the officer’s voice echoing from the room behind them. 

“Get up, Princess! Your chariot has arrived. Here to take you to that big, grey castle by the Bay.” His laughter was sickening and made Rico’s lip curl in disgust, but in that moment a plan began to form in his mind as well. 

Without hesitation, Rico stood, though he stayed hunched over to avoid notice from the windows above them. He then stepped towards Mateo, hoping the cops wouldn’t notice the shadow passing across the window. He'd assumed it would draw more attention if he'd moved quickly, so he'd opted to walk at a normal pace. Every decision he’d made since he’d woken up this morning had been a gamble and they’d continue to be until he and Mateo were far away from here and this mess they’d gotten themselves into.

He didn’t hear any hollers from the station, no alarms raised about prowlers in the alley, but, truly, Rico wasn’t listening to them for much longer. He had an idea and they had no time to waste.

Rico pulled Mateo with him back through the alleyways and towards the street. As they walked side by side, he gave Mateo some simple instructions. “Follow me to the car and do not look back at the station once we’re on the street.”

“We’re leaving him?!”

“No,” Rico replied firmly, not stopping his stride, “They’re going to put him in a car to take him to the prison and we’re going to follow them.” He assumed Mateo had more questions, but they reached the street before he could ask them. There was no time for debate anyways. Mateo had asked him to come up with a plan and that’s what he was doing. He’d just have to trust him. 

As Rico’d expected, there were more cops outside the station now, milling about a paddy wagon parked out front. It seemed some press had arrived as well. Disgust roiled through his belly again, but he powered on, walking as fast as he felt they could without drawing attention to themselves. The passersby who all seemed to be stopping to see what was going on also helped them pass without issue. Everyone was more interested in the scene around that black truck than they were in two Chicanos walking in the other direction. 

Once they reached the car, Rico picked up the pace and climbed into the relative safety that the vehicle provided. He clenched the wheel tighter than he meant to, as his brain kept spinning through what they could do next. Mixed in amongst those strategic thoughts was a little nagging voice telling him it was all too dangerous, too foolish. He had Mateo in the car with him now, he should just drive back to their hiding place and lay low until this all blew over. He could tie Mateo down if he had to. 

“So, we’re going to follow them?” Mateo asked from the passenger seat. 

“There are some secluded areas along the drive to San Quentin. We can try to stop them along the way.”

“How?”

“I’ll think of something.” He’d _already_ thought of something, but he didn’t want to scare the boy with his reckless idea. With more time, he hoped he might come up with something better or have another opportunity present itself. 

Knowing these streets well, Rico took the last couple minutes they had to drive around a couple blocks to put them ahead of the police station. He didn’t want to be caught trying to get through the crowds and lose sight of Diego in the process. From where he pulled over, he could still see the police station behind them and watch the ludicrous spectacle unfold as they threw Mateo into the back of the van.

Glad when it was finally over, the shouting of cops and civilians alike, the flashing of camera blubs capturing the worst moment of Diego’s life, they watched the police van drive past them beginning its journey out of the city. Rico and Mateo followed. 

They kept a bit of distance between them for a while at first, though made sure to keep the black van in sight. Mateo asked a question now and then or expressed concerns they both shared, but Rico stayed quiet. He needed to focus on this suicidal rescue mission and not get distracted by Mateo.

After driving for a little under an hour, they were getting into a quieter area in the hills. There were no cars between them and the police at this point and hadn’t been for some time. Normally, Rico was a patient man, but they only had so much gas and he didn’t want to be stuck out here whether they managed to get their hands on Diego or not. They didn’t have time to wait for the cops to pull into a rest stop or gas station. They had to act now while they still could.

Pressing his foot firmly on the gas pedal, Rico gave Mateo some final directions. “You get Diego and let me deal with the cops.” 

“Rico, what –”

“Brace yourself!” Before Mateo could finish his question, Rico had caught up with the police, slipped into the opposite lane, and pulled in ahead of them. He then immediately slammed on the breaks. 

The crash was instantaneous. The cops rear-ended them hard, bringing both their vehicles to a stop. Rico and Mateo whipped forward but managed to stay in their seats thanks to the brief warning Rico’d called out. They’d known what was coming; the cops had not. 

Jumping into action, Rico leapt out of the car. He kept low, unsure what state the police were in, but made a beeline for the driver’s side of the vehicle. He popped up at the window, grabbing the police officer’s head and smashed it into the steering wheel. He was going to do it again, to be extra sure the man was out cold, but before he could, a shot rang out and a burning pain flared through his shoulder.

He cursed loudly as he spun back and down beneath the window. Regardless of his pain and shock, Rico knew he couldn’t stop. Mateo was still out there. 

As much as it hurt to put pressure on his bleeding shoulder, Rico did what he had to and scrambled around the front of their cars to come out on the passenger side. The cop who’d shot him was just getting out of their truck and, fortunately for Rico, was looking back to where Mateo’d run. 

Rising to his full height, Rico ran towards the cop and latched onto him. He wrapped one arm around the cop’s neck and reached for the arm that was holding the gun. He slammed that arm into the side of the van. Another shot went off in the struggle, but it bit into the ground near their feet. 

After a few more smacks of his hand into the side of the vehicle, the cop finally dropped his gun. Rico then tightened his grip around the white man’s neck, using his freehand for support. Eventually, the officer’s struggling began to weaken until he finally went limp in Rico’s arms. He held him for a few more seconds before letting him collapse to the ground. He wasn’t dead (probably) but he was out of the way for now.

Stumbling slightly, winded from the fight, Rico made his way to the back of the van where Mateo was hiding. The boy flinched when he arrived, likely expecting it might have been one of the cops who’d appeared. Rico had seen him peek around from the back of the van after the second shot, but he’d thankfully stayed where he was with the job Rico’d assigned him. 

“It’s locked,” he whined, looking back and froth from Rico to Diego. The young prisoner had come to the door in all the commotion. “Rico, you’re bleeding!” Mateo added, noticing the blood stain growing down the arm of his jacket. 

“I’m fine,” he lied, jogging back to the unconscious cop. He roughly frisked the man’s belt and pockets until he found a ring of keys that he brought back to Mateo. 

It took longer than it should have, every second feeling like minutes, his shoulder aching as he held the wound tight beneath his palm, but Mateo finally managed to unlock the back door so Diego could jump out. Rico’d been watching their backs the whole time, making sure neither cop suddenly woke up and started shooting again. He also took the opportunity to slash both their back tires, further impeding any chance they’d have of following them. 

“Can you drive?” Rico asked Mateo as the three of them rushed back to their own car. 

“No, but I could try.”

Rico dismissed the offer with a wave of his hand and climbed into the driver’s seat again. Mateo climbed in beside him and Diego joined in the back. Grateful that their car could still drive after the crash, Rico pulled away just as the driver of the police van seemed to be stirring. He fell out of the van and got a couple shots off in their direction, but he missed his mark and Rico and the others were able to speed away from him. 

“I need you to put pressure on my shoulder,” Rico told Diego. Mateo had kept the cop’s keys and unlocked Diego’s handcuffs shortly after they’d left the scene of the accident. Diego didn’t hesitate and immediately grabbed on to Rico’s bloody shoulder, pulling it back against the seat. Rico groaned and let that arm fall by his side as he continued to drive with one hand. 

The boys were mostly quiet as they drove back into the city, whether out of fear or shock he didn't know. This was preferable to Rico as it allowed him to focus on watching for cops in the rear-view mirror or ahead of them. Rio would have said they should have killed those two cops. They’d seen him and Mateo, at least to some extent. Leaving them alive was risky, but he didn’t want more blood on his hands, not if he could help it.

He’d planned to take a longer route back into the city but didn’t detour quite as far as he’d meant to because, the longer they sat in the car, the harder it was to ignore the pain in his shoulder. He almost wanted to scream by the time they pulled into a junkyard near the Chicano neighbourhood. He parked behind a wrecked car and a rusted tractor then finally turned off the engine. 

Both Mateo and Diego were staring at him expectantly, a mix of nerves and relief on their faces. Rico closed his eyes, trying to get his heart to calm down. After a couple deep breaths, he turned to Mateo. 

“I need towels. Wet some of them. Get tweezers and a sewing kit, if you can, and bandages too.” Mateo nodded along, listening intently. “And tequila. Or whatever alcohol you have.” They weren’t far from the Vega house, so Rico hoped the kid would be able to find everything easily enough. “Por favor.”

Mateo ran off without another word, without any questions this time, leaving Rico and Diego alone in their banged-up car. 

They sat in silence at first, which Rico was grateful for. Then again, a distraction from the pain might have been a good thing. At least the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

“They made me confess to everything,” Diego said, finally breaking the silence several minutes later, “Even those murders down by the river that I had nothing to do with.”

Rico wasn’t surprised. Ever since those bodies had been found all cut up and made up like it was Día de los Muertos, they’d all known that Mexicans or Chicanos would be blamed. 

“And they’re protecting Mateo,” Diego continued, “All because his brother’s a cop.”

“You wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for Mateo,” Rico snapped. 

“I wouldn’t have been _there_ if it weren’t for Rio.”

Before Rico could ask what he’d meant by that, he heard fast footsteps approaching and saw Mateo appear again with a basket in his arms.

Rico got out of the car to join him. Diego followed.

“What can I do?” Mateo asked, setting down the supplies. 

Rico grabbed the tequila and took a long swig. “Help me get this off,” he said, trying to pull off his jacket. Mateo helped him out of it, earning a few more winces from Rico in the process.

Sitting down on the hood of the car, Rico asked Mateo for one of the damp towels. He then gently wiped his arm and shoulder. He needed another drink by the time he was finished cleaning the area around the gunshot wound. He could see that the bullet had gone in high on his shoulder and it didn’t seem to have gone through and through. He’d gotten lucky, but not lucky enough. Considering what they’d pulled off though, all the stupid risks they’d taken, he knew it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

"Take those,” he instructed Mateo, pointing to the tweezers. “We need to get the bullet out.”

To Mateo’s credit, he tried. But his unsure and unsteady attempts to retrieve the bullet were hurting Rico more than helping him. “Ay, caray! Ándale, ese!” He kept hitting the metal lodged in his shoulder, sending a new wave of pain from the source, but struggled to get a hold on the piece. “Enough!” Rico shouted, snatching the tweezers out of Mateo’s hand. He then took a deep breath and dove right in. 

It still hurt, but less somehow now that he had control over what was happening. It took a little more digging, but he was finally able to pinch the bullet and pull it out. He threw everything to the ground once he’d succeeded and grabbed the tequila from Diego. Rico’s shoulder had started bleeding again, though not as badly as before. Either way, he knew he had to push forward. 

Rico told Mateo to thread a needle from the sewing kit, a task he completed with shaky hands. “Have you done this before?” Mateo asked, handing the needle to Rico. 

“Not on myself.” He’d stitched up a couple friends over the years, so he knew what to do. This wasn’t the first time he’d been shot either, but the other time the bullet had just grazed his hip. “I need you to squeeze here,” he explained, pulling Mateo’s hand to his shoulder. “Tighter,” he added, squeezing Mateo’s hand with his own. 

With Mateo holding the wound steady, Rico began the painstaking work of stitching it closed. He was able to stay surprisingly calm throughout the procedure. The only signs of his distress were how he clenched his jaw and how heavily he was breathing. 

It wasn’t the cleanest work and would almost certainly leave a scar, but after a few difficult minutes, the job was done. Rico hung his head, resting his elbows on his knees, and let out a deep breath. He felt sick and wanted nothing more than to lie down, but knew they weren’t done yet. Those cops would get back into town eventually and they’d likely come to this neighbourhood in search of Diego. 

“Can you get us some food, Mateo?” Rico asked, still trying to breathe normally in his hunched over position. “And I need a new shirt. You do too.” He looked up at Mateo now and could see that his hands were covered in blood. There was some on his arms too and his shirt. Even a smear across his neck. Rico didn’t remember grabbing him there, but the last few minutes were a blur. 

Again, Mateo ran off without hesitation, leaving Rico and Diego alone once more. 

“What’re we gonna do, Rico?” Diego asked.

He didn’t answer right away, though he’d already decided on a plan. He just needed a minute – he needed several – to process what had happened and what they could do next. He needed to think it all through, make sure there were no other options. “We’re gonna get you out of here,” he finally replied. Time wasn’t on their side; there could be no perfect plan, but Rico knew they had to get Diego out of the city. The cops weren’t going to stop looking for him, or for any of them now, but Rico couldn’t afford to keep Diego around. Watching after Mateo was already making him do stupid things; he couldn’t be responsible for two of them. 

Mateo was gone longer than he’d been the first time and apologised once he returned with fresh clothes, bread, and other scraps to fill their bellies. “My brother saw me.”

“The cop!?” Diego yelled with alarm.

“No, Raul. He asked what I was doing, where I was going with all this stuff.”

Rico shot him a look, waiting for him to say more.

“I didn’t tell him anything and he’s in no shape to come looking for me.” Rico wasn’t sure if Mateo was lying or not, but from what he’d heard Raul was no friend of the cops, and so was the least of their worries right now.

Rico stood to approach Mateo but felt a sudden rush to his head as he did. Both boys leapt to his sides and grabbed his arms as he wobbled on his feet. They helped him back to lean on the hood of the car again.

“You need to rest, Rico,” Mateo said softly. 

“I need to make a call.”

“To who?”

“An old friend,” he replied dismissively, not wanting to say more. “Now pass me some of that food so I can get my strength back.”

The boys did as he asked and stood watching him for a minute. 

“I’m fine,” Rico assured them as he swallowed a mouthful of bread and cheese. He really was starting to feel better, more like himself again, with some food in his belly. He realized now that he hadn’t eaten all day. And then he’d been shot. It was no wonder he’d felt so drained. His adrenaline had worn off now too, but he’d soldier on.

After a few more minutes of rest, Rico was able to stand without getting lightheaded. He wrapped a bandage around his sewed-up shoulder and switched into the shirt Mateo had brought him.

“Stay here by the car,” Rico instructed. “I shouldn’t be gone long.” Mateo still looked worried and Diego was pacing anxiously nearby but he trusted they would listen to him. They’d better after everything he’d done for them. 

He reached into the car and grabbed some change out of the small pocket between the seats before walking away. The food had helped, so he walked at his usual pace, but he kept his ears and eyes open for any signs of the police approaching. He weaved through the neighbourhood, keeping to himself, until he arrived at the payphone he knew was stationed near the bus stop. 

“Oscar, soy Rico,” he said once the phone connected to the man whose number he’d memorized years ago. “Necesito tu ayuda.”

He was gone less than a half an hour and was pleased to see the boys leaned against the car when he returned. 

“Did you know?!” Mateo demanded when Rico approached them.

“Know what?” By this point, Rico was exhausted, and had no energy left for another argument.

“That Rio gave Diego to the cops?”

“They got separated, just like you and I did.” 

“No!” Diego interjected. “She was right there with me when the cop said he was gonna start shooting. Then she ran through the door and closed it behind her. I was trapped because of her.”

Rico scowled. Rio’d told him they’d gotten separated. She’d said nothing about choosing to sacrifice Diego. “I didn’t know,” he answered. Diego looked skeptical, but Mateo’s expression softened.

“Why would she do that?” asked Mateo. 

Rico didn’t know that either, but he could hazard a guess. If she’d felt it was the only way to save her own skin, she’d have sacrificed him in an instant. But they’d only had one cop after them. Surely, they could have both gotten away. She didn’t have to close the door, locking Diego in behind her. She’d made that choice and it worried him as much as it did Mateo. 

Having no answers for the boys about Rio’s actions, Rico brought their conversation back to the situation at hand. “We’ll stay here for now. If cops come, we can get back in the car and try to lose them again. At midnight we’re going to meet a friend of mine and he’s gonna take Diego far away from here.”

“Take me where?”

Rico paused before answering, anticipating they would not like his response. “Mexico.” 

As expected, both Mateo and Diego had _many_ questions. Rico only had so many answers. It was the best he could come up with under such short notice. Diego would never be a free man in Los Angeles again. He might even end up wanted throughout the state. His safest option, though it certainly wasn’t without its risks, was to get across the border. Rico’s friend Oscar could make that happen. 

Accepting his plan, begrudgingly, Diego and Mateo settled down and gave Rico space to rest in the back of the car. Though a part of him was worried he would open his eyes and find one or both of them had run away, he drifted off and woke again as the sun was beginning to set. Mateo and Diego were still there. He was proud of them for doing all they’d done today, for trusting him and doing as he’d said. A part of him would miss Diego, feel a hole in their family where he could have been, but he’d convinced himself that this was for the best.

With the moon shining bright overhead, Rico led the boys to the meeting spot he’d agreed on with Oscar. It wasn’t far from the junkyard but was away from the main roads through the neighbourhood. They didn’t want to risk any night owls seeing them send Diego off.

Rico exchanged a few words with Oscar as Diego said his goodbyes to Mateo. He then returned and wished Diego luck for the trip and the future. He was sorry that it’d come to this. Diego didn’t deserve it, but this had to be a better ending than he would have had had he and Mateo done nothing. At least now he could have another chance at life beyond the walls of a prison cell. 

As the car drove away, disappearing into the distance, Mateo suddenly spun towards Rico and wrapped his arms around him. 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice muffled into the crook of Rico’s neck. 

Rico brought his good arm up to return the embrace. Mateo was the reason he’d done all of this. He might yet come to regret it, but for the moment, he would savour the fact that their hearts still beat and that they could walk the world as free men, at least until tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, for reading and commenting.


	3. Consequences

Rico didn’t want to let go of Mateo. After the day they’d had, he found such comfort holding on to him. Their chests rose and fell together; the night was quiet. Closing his eyes, he could almost fall asleep right there.

“What do we do now?” Mateo asked, lingering in their embrace. 

Rico sighed. He was tired of planning and thinking about their next move and the move after that, but this was the life he’d made for himself. He knew it would never be easy. “We can crash in the car for the night in case they still coming looking for us. Then we go back to the hideaway tomorrow, or maybe find a new one.” They’d have to lay low at least for a few days. The police would be on high alert after Diego’s escape and Rico expected that he’d be one of the key suspects. 

Finally separating, Mateo looked upset. “I don’t want to sleep in the car.” 

“Neither do I,” Rico sympathized. “I’m just trying to keep us safe.” He brushed Mateo’s cheek with his thumb, then trailed his hand back farther so he could massage the back of his head.

Mateo leaned into his touch, tears in his eyes. “I want to go home, Rico.”

Rico didn’t know what to say. He’d never had a home like Mateo did. He’d made one for himself more than a few times, but knew it wasn’t the same thing. 

“Come home with me, Rico,” Mateo said pulling his hand down and holding it against his chest. “You deserve to sleep in a bed tonight and eat a real breakfast in the morning. We’ll be safe there.”

Rico pulled away from this sweet child and turned his back on him. The Vegas already knew too much. Tiago knew Mateo’d killed Riley. Their mother may have known too; she certainly knew something. And now Raul had seen Mateo running in and out of the house – with blood on his hands – gathering supplies. “You can trust my family,” Mateo added, seemingly reading Rico’s mind. “They won’t turn us in and would give us a chance to run if we had to.”

“And what if the cops bust in like they did at my place?” he asked, turning back to face him. “You gonna let your brother get beaten and arrested while we run away? Don’t think they won’t take mama too.”

“Please Rico, trust me.”

It didn’t take long for him to give in after that. He didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore. 

Arriving at the Vega house, all was dark, as expected, given the late hour. Mateo let them in and gave Rico a brief, quiet tour, pointing out all the relevant rooms. Their last stop was a modest bedroom with two single beds on either side of the window. “This is my room,” Mateo explained. “I shared it with Tiago before he moved out.”

“Which one’s yours?” Both beds were made up perfectly – his mother’s doing, Rico imagined. 

Mateo indicated the one on the left and Rico took a few backward steps towards it, watching his young friend’s face. He smirked suggestively then let out a soft, breathy laugh before making his way to the other bed.

“We could…” Mateo began, his voice trailing off as he looked back and forth from Rico and his bed. 

Rico laughed again, throwing himself onto Tiago’s old mattress. “En la casa de tu madre?” he kept chucking as he pulled off his shoes. “No, guapo. She’ll be mad enough when she finds me here. We don’t need to give her more reasons to throw us out.”

Blushing and averting his eyes, Mateo closed the door and hurried over to his own bed. 

Feeling lighter than he had all day, Rico fell asleep quickly. His shoulder still ached and woke him every time he accidentally rolled onto it, but he certainly slept better than he would have out in the car. 

When morning came, Rico stirred to the sound of arguing. He couldn’t make out all the words, yelled in both English and Spanish, but didn’t need to. Mateo wasn’t in his bed, so Rico had a pretty good guess who was fighting and what it would be about.

He pulled on his shoes and peeked out the door. The voices were coming from the kitchen area that was out of sight. Before things could get worse, Rico took the opportunity to slip through the nearby backdoor that Mateo had pointed out during his late-night tour.

As he was closing the door softly behind him, not wanting to let it slam and alert them to his presence, he realized he wasn’t alone in the backyard.

“Sneaking out already?” the tall, mustachioed Chicano asked. “I don’t blame you.”

“You must be Raul,” Rico replied, noticing the cane by his side.

“And you’re that Pachuco motherfucker my brother is so obsessed with.” Rico was surprised to see Raul smiling with those words. “I tell ya,” he continued, taking a drag from his cigarette, “I ain’t never seen his eyes light up the way they did when he talked about meeting you at the hospital.”

Rico blushed a little, shoving his hands in his pockets. He hadn’t realized he’d made such an impression on Mateo, though he probably should have after seeing how excited he was when he’d found him at The Cat. The fact that he’d followed him ever since then was also a clue.

“D’you know he even compared you to Fred Astaire?”

“That Gringo?” They laughed together. He hadn’t expected he could talk this easily with anyone in Mateo’s family, not after corrupting their baby boy.

“Can I steal a smoke off you?”

“Stealing’s what you do, isn’t it? Among other things.” Despite his jibe, Raul offered Rico his pack of cigarettes and let him take one.

They didn’t say much after that. The sounds of raised voices still reached them from the kitchen, though the volume decreased now and then. 

Stubbing out his cigarette a couple minutes later, Rico asked Raul for another favour. “Tell him I’ll be back?”

“And will you?”

He nodded. He wasn’t going to abandon Mateo now, but he needed to take care of a few things. He also wanted nothing to do with the fight Mateo was having with his mother. Though he was partially to blame for the trouble they were in now, he’d be no help to Mateo in this situation. And if mama Vega convinced her son to give up the Pachuco life, perhaps that wouldn’t be a bad thing after all.

Rico returned to their car first. He gathered all their things, his suit and cigarettes, as well as the supplies Mateo had brought yesterday. He piled them all into the two baskets Mateo had used, stacking them inside each other so they’d be easier to carry. He’d leave the car here for now, he decided. He didn’t need it for getting around the neighbourhood and knew better than to go into the city anytime soon. 

His arm was aching by the time he reached their hideout. The walk, carrying a basket full of towels, clothes, and assorted scraps had strained his wounded shoulder more than he’d expected. He could even see some blood colouring the bandage beneath his shirt. 

He didn’t bother knocking and had his suspicions confirmed when he walked in and found their hovel empty. 

There were a few more things here that he wanted to collect. He wasn’t sure how long they’d be staying at the Vega house. Depending on how Mateo fared against his mother, they might be looking for new lodgings as early as tonight, but he wanted to have all their things together either way. They didn’t have much out here, but he’d hold on to what they did. 

After setting down the baskets, Rico stripped out of his shirt and peeled off the soiled bandage around his shoulder. There was a half-empty jug of water by the table, which he used to clean off the fresh blood. Beneath the stains, the wound didn’t look half bad. He poked at it a little and saw no signs of infection. He was feeling rather proud of himself when the door suddenly opened behind him. 

He’d flinched at first, immediately reaching towards the knife in his pocket, but relaxed (mostly) when he realized it was only Rio. 

“So, you _are_ alive, though a little worse for wear.”

Rico hooked his thumbs in his pants, meeting Rio’s teasing gaze with a serious one of his own. 

“And where’s our baby boy? You didn’t lose him, did you?”

“He’s fine.”

“For now.”

“What do you want, Rio?” he asked as she began to circle the room. 

“I want to know why the fuck you went and ruined my perfectly good plan.” The smile that had played on her lips since she’d arrived quickly disappeared as she drew in closer to Rico. “It was a done deal,” she continued. “Diego would take the fall and we’d be in the clear. It couldn’t have gone better.”

“So, you did give him to the cops.”

“And I would do it again, hermano.” She stared him down, daring him to argue with her. “What’d you do with him anyways?” she asked, her tone softening.

“He’s gone.”

“Whatever that means,” she said dismissively, pacing the room again. “They raided The Cat again last night thanks to you. It was quiet though. No one was really in the mood for dancing.”

“Were they only looking for Diego or for us too?”

“They were more occupied trashing the place than asking us questions. But I hear that little Gringo who runs with Mateo’s brother was asking about you even before Diego got caught. He and Tiago weren’t there last night, so I’d watch your back. They’re not stupid.”

Rico knew that Tiago had protected his brother, let him escape when they could have taken him in, but he wasn’t sure how much longer they could count on him doing that. 

“We’ll lay low until this blows over.” He had to hope that the cops would eventually move on to some other case and stop looking for him and Mateo. “They can’t prove we did anything.”

“And since when do they need proof, Rico?” 

He knew she was right, but he couldn’t undo what had already been done. He’d just have to find a way to keep moving forward. He couldn’t accept that he’d have to stay hiding forever or, worse, flee to Mexico like Diego. His whole life was here, and he didn’t want to give that up yet. He’d just have to be patient. 

Getting some more bandages from the basket, Rico started to rewrap his shoulder. Without asking, Rio appeared by his side and helped with the task. 

“You’re too attached, cariño. This boy’s making you reckless.”

“You’re as involved with him as I am.”

“No, mi amor. Just because we shared him one night doesn’t mean I’m going to risk my life for him. He has potential, a fire in his heart, but it must be controlled or else we’re all gonna get burned.” 

“I don’t want to control him.”

Rio shrugged. “And now we know what happens when you let _him_ control _you_.”

He pulled away from her with a huff and put his shirt back on. Rio was one to talk about control. He wasn’t the only one who called her La Reina. She had them all curled around her little finger, but now she was starting to lose the power she had over him and maybe over Mateo too. In truth, the last few months, even before Mateo came into the picture, Rico had been increasingly at odds with Rio. All her talk of war and revolution were more than Rico had signed up for; it was more than he wanted from the Pachuco life. 

Rico crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He had everything he needed now, but he wasn’t going to leave with her. More so than ever he had the urge to keep Mateo away from her. He was no saint himself, but with both of them in Mateo’s ears, the kid would be as good as dead. 

Rio raised her hands in surrender. “If you get tired of hiding and want to take back what’s ours, you know where to find us. Say hello to our baby boy for me and try not to do anything else stupid.”

Once the door closed behind her, Rico slid down the wall and sat on the floor, resting his arms on his knees.

He knew she was right about him being too attached. He felt weak around Mateo, unable to put his foot down and tell the boy no. But he also felt strong. He saw the way that Mateo looked at him, felt that affection and admiration radiating off of him. Raul’s comment proved that Mateo had been hooked quicker than Rico’d even realized. It was thrilling knowing Mateo would follow him, that he wanted to be like him. But Mateo had a bright independence too. It was almost as easy for Rico to follow Mateo as it was to lead him. The question was, who had more control over who? He had no intention of making Mateo do anything he didn’t want to do, but Rico still wanted to think that _he_ was in charge. He’d spent years earning respect amongst the Pachuco, becoming a leader to them alongside Rio. He wasn’t ready to throw that all away for this pretty, young thing who somehow kept getting him to do things against his better judgement. 

When Rico returned to the Vegas, it seemed weird to knock, but walking straight in also didn’t feel right. Fortunately, Mateo must have seen him from the window and came to open the door for him. 

“You’re back!” he exclaimed, taking the baskets out of Rico’s hands. “Raul said you would be, but I wasn’t sure.”

Rico followed Mateo inside and around the house as he returned the sewing kit and other supplies to where they belonged. He also threw all their soiled towels and clothes into a basin for washing. 

“I hope you’re not mad at me for everything that happened yesterday,” Mateo said as they wandered around the house. “I’m sorry you got shot, but we saved Diego’s life. That was good, right?” He turned to Rico, waiting for his reply.

“I’m glad we could save Diego,” he answered with a sigh. “But you won’t always be able to save everyone, Mateo, and there are consequences for what we did.” He didn’t want to guilt Mateo further by telling him about the raid on The Cat, but he needed him to know that there were downsides to playing the hero. “The police are going to be looking for us again. They’ll assume we helped Diego escape.”

“I know how we can fix that,” he replied, his face lighting up. “Mama and Raul are going to give us an alibi.” Judging by the proud look on his face, Rico assumed that this idea had been his own and that he’d somehow convinced his family to go along with it. He couldn’t believe it and his own expression, the crease in his brow, the tilt of his head, conveyed that skepticism. “We’ll stay here for the next couple days,” Mateo explained, “And if Tiago or the police come, they’ll tell them we were here the whole time. Then we can go back to The Cat and be free in the city again.”

Rico had many questions and even more doubts. He could poke a million holes in Mateo’s plan if he wanted to: the police would have no reason to believe them; they might arrest them anyway; they might arrest Raul (especially considering the amount of cop blood he’d spilled himself); or they might just wait till Rico went back home and capture him there. He would always be looking over his shoulder, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. To some extent, that was nothing new, but the things they’d done in the last week were much more serious than all the petty thieving he’d done for the last few years. Though he wouldn’t admit it: he was scared. 

“I get why they’d want to help you,” Rico said, finally breaking his pensive silence, “But why would they help me? Don’t they blame me for getting you into all this?”

Mateo shrugged. “You stopped Riley at the hospital. I told them about that. And I told them how you saved an innocent man from a life in prison or worse.” Rico wondered just how detailed he’d been in telling his family all these stories. It worried him that they might know too much. “You’re a good man, Rico, and I’ve tried to make my family see that.” 

Rico was at a loss for words. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had called him a good man. He wasn’t sure he even thought of himself as one. It was hard to believe that the Vegas were really going to try to protect him, but he wanted it to be true. Having their acceptance and support would mean more to him than he could even explain. He didn’t think he deserved it. 

“You continue to surprise me, Mateo Vega.” He shook his head as a smile lit up the younger man’s face again. 

Returning to the living room, Rico discovered Raul was sitting on the couch. 

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Raul commented dryly. 

“You can have it back after we wash mine,” Rico replied.

Raul waved off his words dismissively. “I don’t care about the shirt, but you better wash those things before mom gets home. She’s already mad enough without having to physically clean up your mess.”

Rico and Mateo spent the rest of the afternoon washing yesterday’s towels and clothes as Raul had suggested. Mateo also came up with the idea to make tamales so his mom wouldn’t have to cook dinner after working all day.

The kitchen was not Rico’s natural habit, though he could make some basics, so Mateo did most of the work preparing the meal. As he worked, kneading dough, cutting vegetables, and steaming the corn husks, Mateo entertained Rico with family stories. He told him about growing up with his sister and brothers, about his mother teaching him how to cook, and about living in Mexico. Raul joined them to share more on the latter, seeing as Mateo had been very young when they’d left. 

As Rico sat at the kitchen table, listening to the Vega brothers laugh and tell stories, smelling the delicious aromas of a home-cooked meal, he could almost forget about their troubles for a while. The mood changed quickly though once Señora Vega came home. 

Raul and Mateo tried to keep it light, greeting their mother with a kiss on the cheek and helping her with her things, but Rico saw the way her eyes kept drifting back to him. Her stern expression dampened the joyful spirts that had filled the room all afternoon. 

Rico was polite, though he hardly spoke. The four of them shared a meal in somewhat awkward silence that was broken up now and then as the Vega boys tried to engage their mother in casual conversation. 

The tamales were delicious, and Rico said so, slipping in a compliment to Mateo’s mother, saying she must have taught him well. The curt “Gracias” she gave him was the most she’d said to him since she’d arrived. 

Volunteering to do the dishes, Rico tidied up while Raul and Mateo retired to the living room. Maria, who’s name he’d learned during the boys’ colourful stories, went outside. Against his better judgement, Rico followed her after he was done.

He found her out back smoking, much like he’d found Raul that morning. 

“Perdona me, Señora,” Rico cooed, raising his hands in front of him. “I want to thank you for letting me stay here and for providing an alibi for us. I’m not sure I deserve your kindness.”

“You’re right,” she replied, “You don’t.” She took another drag from her cigarette, leaving her disapproval hanging in the air. “The police will not listen to an old lady like me, but I would do anything for my sons, so I will tell this lie if they ask me.”

“Gracias.”

Just as he was about to leave her, not wanting to intrude any longer, he heard her speak again.

“If you’re really a good man like my Mateo says you are, then you’d leave him before more harm is done.”

“And how would I stop him from following me?” he asked sincerely.

“You will think of something.” Those words almost sounded like a threat coming out of this small, Mexican woman. He wasn’t sure what he could say to that, but Maria seemed to have decided that the conversation was over anyways. She stubbed out her cigarette and walked to the shed nearby. 

Rico watched her for a few minutes, seeing flickering light brighten the space beyond the shed’s small window. He couldn’t see much and was about to go back inside when he felt a sudden chill down his spine. There was someone else in there with Maria. He couldn’t quite make them out, but saw a tall, veiled figure pass across the window. Before he could see them more clearly, they’d disappeared beyond the window’s frame. 

Convinced it was either a trick of his eyes or else something he wasn’t supposed to know about (maybe he and Mateo weren’t the only fugitives Maria was harbouring), Rico left the backyard and met Mateo in the hallway.

“Are you okay?” Mateo asked.

Rico nodded, though he did feel a little unsettled after his conversation with Maria and the strange moment that followed. “Join me for a walk?” 

Happy to enjoy the fresh night air, they took a stroll through the neighbourhood, just the two of them. It could reinforce their alibi if other folks in the area saw them in and around the Vega house, but that wasn’t Rico’s reason for asking Mateo to walk with him. 

“What does your mother do in that shed?”

“She prays to Santa Muerte.”

“ _The_ Santa Muerte?” 

“Is there any other one?” Mateo replied with a laugh.

“She prays alone?”

“Si,” Mateo answered, dragging out the word. “Raul says he believes in her too, but I think he just says that to make her happy. My mom’s convinced Santa Muerte protects our family. Tiago even has a scar on his chest that she says came from when Santa Muerte touched him on the day our father died.” Mateo shrugged, but Rico was fascinated by the information he was sharing. “Her shrine and prayers don’t hurt anyone, and we’ve learned not to waste our breath fighting with her about this spirit she thinks is real.”

Rico told himself he didn’t get a good look at whoever or whatever was moving in the shed with Maria. Surely, he couldn’t have seen something he didn’t even believe in.

“How’s your shoulder?” Mateo asked, changing the subject after they’d walked a few minutes in companionable silence.

“Stiff and sore, but it should be fine.”

Mateo started rambling on, recounting their exploits from the day before, asking how Rico’d knocked out the two cops, and raving about how impressive Rico had been through it all. Rico was only half listening to him, his concern growing the more excited Mateo became. 

“Why’d you stay with us?" he asked, ignoring Mateo's questions to ask one of his own, "After they raided The Cat?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why?” They’d stopped walking and turned to face each other. Mateo looked almost as serious as Rico. “It wasn’t your fight. You’d just met us. You could have gone back home and just had one more story to tell your brothers.”

Mateo looked hurt. “It _is_ my fight. I’m Chicano, just like you, and I’m tired of people treating us like were less than everyone else.”

“You don’t regret it, after everything that’s happened?”

“No.” How, Rico wondered, could such a boy answer such a question so quickly and with such certainty. Was it bravery or bravado? Had _he_ been that confident when Papa Pachuco had first taken him under his wing? He couldn’t remember. 

“What if we hadn’t been able to save Diego. Would you still have stayed with us or would you have gone back to the life you had before?” He asked this as if it was possible to return to life before you killed someone. He knew that it wasn’t. 

Mateo took longer to reply this time but seemed just as sure of his answer despite the pause. “I probably would have gone home, but I’ve gone home now too, haven’t I? I don’t have to give one up for the other.” Rico wished that was true and he would hate himself if he ended up being the reason Mateo lost the family he appeared to take for granted.

Maria’s words echoed in Rico’s mind. He might be able to dissuade Mateo from the Pachuco life depending on what he said. He could try to convince him that he _would_ have to give up his family to keep running with them. He could try to make him realize just how much he’d be giving up, how much he risked losing. He could push him away and tell him he’s not good enough to be a Pachuco, that he didn’t want him anymore. But Rico didn’t want to do those things. He wasn’t even sure he _could_ do the last one. Mateo was an adult, as young as he might seem. He could make his own decisions and would have to live with the consequences of them. It wasn’t up to him to make those decisions for him or to convince him to go one way or another. The best he could do was try to protect him and teach him the skills he’d need to survive. 

“Are we okay, Rico?” He hadn’t said anything for a minute and Mateo was starting to look worried.

“Yeah,” he said, clasping Mateo’s shoulder, “Sorry. I’m just a little jealous of the life you have here.”

On their way back to the house, Rico lit up a cigarette to keep one hand busy while they walked. The other he shoved in his pocket. He was itching to hold Mateo’s hand. It swung so close to his, bumping into him every now and then. He knew he couldn’t act on this impulse though, no matter how much he wanted to. The neighbours already had enough to talk about as it was. 

By the time they got back to the house, Raul and Maria had both gone to bed. Mateo and Rico didn’t bother to turn on a light this time as they navigated to their room. It was a clear night, so they could see well enough by the light of the moon through the windows. 

Standing by his bed, kicking his shoes off, Rico heard Mateo whisper his name. He turned to find that the younger man was much closer to him than he’d realized. 

Slowly, Mateo reached up and placed his hands on either side of Rico’s neck. He leaned in and kissed him softly, little more than a lingering peck. He pulled back slightly, meeting Rico’s eyes in the dark. Rico cupped the back of his head and brought their mouths together again, this time deepening the kiss. It was beautiful and sinful and cleared Rico’s mind of all the day’s worries, if only for a moment. 

He knew that at some point their luck would run out, but until they reached that point, Rico would hold on to this pure, passionate Pachuco he was inexplicably falling in love with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I wanted to finish this fic before episodes 9 and 10 air as I think the shit is going to hit the fan for all of these characters. Depending on what happens, I'll likely want to write more "fix-it fics" or alternative versions of events, so I wanted to have this one completed. 
> 
> For those who were hoping for more sexual content in this fic, I hope you're not too disappointed. I have plans for two PWP FlyVega stories, so stay tuned for those. 
> 
> As always, comments are much appreciated. Thanks again!


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